Wizard or Metahuman?
by wednesday dracula 13
Summary: When Harry was five, he and the Dursleys moved to Central City, America. Now he's ten, and the particle excelorator's blown up... Alternate Universe, set before Philosopher's Stone, rating T for abuse
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Hi. My name's Harry Potter, and I'm the only ten-year-old that can do what I do. I was told for my whole life that 'magic' didn't exist, that I was a freak. But then a group helped me to achieve my full potential, so I could help save innocent people and find others like me. This is that story...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter one: the vanishing glass

"up! Get Up! Now!" Aunt Petunia yelled through the lock on my cupboard door. I heard her, but I didn't really want to wake. I had had a dream that night, the best one I've had in ages; there was a giant in a flying motorcycle, a woman in a green robe and a man with long white hair and beard. I had an odd feeling, like I had that dream before.

"Are you up yet?" Aunt Petunia shouted. There was no need for the communication to be so loud (the wooden door was quite thin) but I had already angered her for not getting up. I didn't want Uncle Vernon getting involved.  
"Nearly," I replied, trying to sound as awake as possible.  
"Well, hurry up, Boy! When you get to the kitchen I want you to look after the bacon, and woe betide you if it's burned. I want everything perfect for my Duddey's birthday."

Ugh. Dudley's birthday - how did I let myself forget?

I got dressed and found some socks under my mattress. After prying a spider off one of them (the cupboard under the stairs is full of them) I quickly make my way into the kitchen to cook breakfast. The kitchen table was covered in Dudley's birthday presents - I was fairly sure he had gotten the new computer he wanted, along with the second TV and the mountain bike. Why he wanted a mountain bike was a mystery to me, because Dudley was fat and hated exercise, unless it involved punching somebody. I was often at the receiving end of the 'sport'.

"Comb your hair, Boy!"

I internally rolled my eyes. There was no point in trying to sort my hair out, my hair just grew like that; all over the place. I must've had more haircuts than the entire class at school put together, but that didn't make a difference. One time, Aunt Petunia was sick of me coming home from the barber's looking like I hadn't been at all so she cut it all off with a pair of kitchen scissors. She left my fringe, however, to hide my lightning-shaped scar that's on my forehead. I had tossed and turned all night wondering what the next day was going to be like at school, where I was already bullied for my broken glasses, small stature and five-times-too-big clothes. Yet the next day my hair had grown back to its original state. I _tried_ to tell Uncle Vernon that I couldn't explain how it happened, but all the same I was punished.

By the time Dudley waddled into the kitchen, I was frying eggs. A thing or two about Dudley: he looks (and kinda acts) like Uncle Vernon. He had blond hair and blue eyes and was at least five times the weight of me. Aunt Petunia always said he looked like a baby angel; I always said he looked like a pig in a wig.

I placed the three plates of egg and bacon on what little table space there was and put half a slice of bread in the toaster for myself. Dudley was counting his birthday presents when his face fell.

"Thirty six. That's... two less than last year."

"You haven't counted Aunt Marge's present, see? It's underneath this big one from Mummy and Daddy."

"Alright, thirty seven then." Dudley's face started to go red so I wolfed down my toast before the table was overturned. Aunt Petunia must've scented danger too, because she then quickly said;  
"And while we're out, we'll buy you two more presents. How's that, Popkin?"

"So I'll have thirty... thirty..."

"Thirty nine." As soon as I said it, I regretted it. Aunt Petunia's glare was enough to kill someone.

"Oh, okay then," Dudley agreed, calming down. He reached for the nearest parcel.

The phone rang and Aunt Petunia dashed into the hallway to talk on the phone whilst Uncle Vernon and I were forced to watch Dudley open his new computer, his second TV, a racing bike, a video camera, sixteen new video games and a VCR. He was just unwrapping a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia hung up the phone and walked in.  
"Bad news, Vernon. Mrs Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." Aunt Petunia jerked her head in my direction, glaring at me as if I had planned this.

Mrs Figg was an old lady who lived across the street with her numerous cats. Every year on Dudley's birthday the Dursleys would go out for the day, leaving me with her. I knew I should've felt sorry for Mrs Figg, but it was difficult when it would be another twelve months before I saw Tibbles, Snowy, Mr Paws and Tufty again in her cabbage-smelling living-room.

"Now what?"

"We could phone Marge?" Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."

"You could just leave me here," I piped up. If they went with that suggestion, I could perhaps watch what I wanted for a change, or maybe have a decent meal rather than toast.

"And come back to find the house in ruins?" she snarled. I wasn't going to blow up the house, not when they weren't in.

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo... and leave him in the car..."

"The car's new, he's not staying in it alone..."

Just then, Dudley began to cry loudly. Or rather, make a huge racket so his parents worry over him and bend to his every wim.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, we won't let him spoil your special day!" she fussed. _Oh Dinky Duddydums, could you do the world a favour by shutting your huge mouth up?_ I thought bitterly. Why were they always acting like I was the problem? Suddenly, the doorbell rang, signalling that the Polkis's were here. Dudley stopped pretending to cry immediately. He couldn't cry in front of his _friends_.

Piers Polkis was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one to hold people's hands behind their backs whilst Dudley punched them.

Half an hour later, I was in the back of the car, on the way to the zoo for the first time. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia didn't know what else to do with me, but Uncle Vernon had taken me aside.  
"Listen to me now, Boy. Any funny business, any at all, and you'd be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."  
I promised myself I wasn't going to do anything.

Once we got to the zoo, I couldn't believe my luck. After buying Dudley and Piers large chocolate Ice creams, the lady in the van asked me what I wanted before I could be hurried along, so I ended up with a lemon Ice lolly for under a Dollar. _It wasn't bad either,_ I thought as I watched a gorilla scratch his head. Actually the ape had a remarkable resemblance to Dudley, except it wasn't blond.

We ate lunch in the zoo restaurant, and Dudley complained that his corn dog wasn't big enough so I was allowed to finish the first.

My luck started to run out after lunch.


End file.
